From the Ashes
by Shaposhit
Summary: Azula says she wants to redeem herself. Then again, Azula always lies. Not focused on ships, but some implied Maiko as well as others. Rated T for discussion of mental illness.
1. Penmanship

_A/N: My idea for this fic was a series of short snapshots that come together to tell a more involved story. Most chapters will probably be around only 500 words, but there should be many of them. Hopefully. Unless I get bored._

_Summary: She says she wants to redeem herself. Then again, Azula always lies._

_Pairings: Canon pairings (e.g., Zuko and Mai); possible implications of others later on_

_Rating: T for totally insane._

_Warnings: The natures of mental illness and evil are discussed. Somewhat autobiographical._

**~~Penmanship~~**

_Isn't it strange, how looking through a haze can make the world clearer?_

The girl's brush made clean, meticulous strokes. She used no flourish, but she was steady.

_Life is simple here. _

The parchment, like the writing, was plain but neat – broad fibers, but cleanly and carefully cut. The girl wrote quickly, with an educated and practiced hand.

_I am learning how to make _

The girl paused, considered.

_mistakes._

Her brush was purposeful and her breath steady, but one vertical line in the character for _mistakes _was skewed fifteen degrees diagonal. A horizontal line wobbled, though the girl's focus seemed impeccable.

_Oops. As you can see, I am learning every day. _

She held up her non-writing hand to the fading afternoon light. The wrist and forearm were atrophied, white-pink scars wrapping like serpents around the wrist. The girl reflected upon her fingers with disgust, then stuck the cleanest in her mouth.

She touched her now-dripping ring finger to the page, letting the saliva pool and dry near _mistakes. _It looked, for all the world, tearstained.

Her eyes were gold and dry.

_It is hard. This is the first letter I am able to write. _

She paused to work the stringy muscle of her writing arm, dirty fingernails scraping against the smooth scar tissue at her wrist.

_Rest your worries, for the men here do their jobs impeccably. Your nation's criminals are well contained. _

The breeze that fluttered her plain black robe entered between bars.

_And your insane are nearly well-treated._

The room was stone, bare but for a kneeling cushion and low table, and a blanket so neatly folded it looked machine-done.

_I hope _you _are well, and I also hope that you will keep me up-to-date. The library here is small and I have already exhausted it._

The girl's hair was cropped unevenly to her shoulders and wind-ruffled, but even its poor cut and messiness could not detract from her striking face.

_One of your letters should give me reading material for a month. Oh, refrain from pouting; you know how you go on and on._

Her lip twitched into a half-smile, but it was somehow grim.

_Love, your sister,_

She carefully skewed the box in _sister_ larger at the top than the bottom.

_Azula_


	2. Interspection

_I'm going to add a daily (or updately) koan to these fics. The wisdom continues at the bottom of the chapter._

_Today's koan: That which doesn't kill you..._

**~~ Interspection~~**

"I have to go see her."

"You don't _have _to do anything."

The candles flared. One would do well to expect a hot atmosphere at the Fire Lord's table.

"Oh, _I'm _sorry, I _forgot _that family means _nothing_ to you!" Zuko nearly shouted. The room was dark, hung with rich ruby-red tapestries. A plate engraved with gold and piled high with slices of roast pork lay untouched between the couple.

Mai sighed. "Let me see the letter."

The Fire Lord eyed his girlfrieAlerts+nd doubtfully, then handed it over. Her eyes flicked over the lines, composed face giving no sign of her thoughts.

"Well?"

"She hasn't apologized for anything."

"She _can't_, you know how she is!" Zuko protested, "She is apologizingthe only way she knows. She outright said she's _learning._"

"Yeah, and she could be _learning_ flower arranging for all we know." Mai coughed doubtfully into one silk maroon sleeve.

"But if she _is _really learning…healing…" Zuko held Mai's gaze levelly. "I need to help her."

"She is and always will be dangerous. She is a snake. Do not trust her."

"Mai, anyone can change!" Zuko cried. "You and I should know that better than anyone."

This was too much for the woman. Poise dissolved. Her left-hand fingers clutched reflexively at something hidden in her belt, and she stood suddenly, emphatically. Her lover followed her movement. Though only he was a firebender, the air around each of them suffered equally with heat.

"No, Zuko," she said, and her voice was soft like a cotton-sheathed dagger. "You want to believe everyone has good in their hearts, no matter how deeply it is buried-"

"I don't-!"

"Let me finish."

Zuko conceded with a lowering of the eyes.

"You want to believe because you found your own secret good inside of you, that anyone can. But some of us are born with black knots around our hearts, be it born of ancestry or spiritual influence or something entirely random. Some of us cannot pick which way our toes point."

He met Mai's gaze with protest on his lips, but swallowed it instead. He turned, considered. Zuko's face was wan, lost in his resplendent Fire Nation robe. When he spoke, his voice was calm. It did nothing to assuage Mai's doubts. "Maybe she is crippled by what is inside her. Maybe she, like me, is a product of our upbringing. Either of these circumstances could be curable _or _incurable. I have to find out."

Zuko was full of an energy Mai could not identify. Hope? Curiosity? Guilt? "You owe her nothing."

"It isn't about owing, Mai." His voice trembled with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. "You weren't there. You didn't see her – at the end – like a cornered beast…"

"So you pity her, who would have your life in a heartbeat."

"Yes, I do."

Mai sighed wearily. "Stupid is as stupid does. Still, there's something off about this letter…I will abstain from further judgment until clarity comes."

Silence reigned and relief filled Zuko's sharp face. Finally, the two resumed kneeling positions on their velvet cushions. They resumed their meal, but their gazes did not meet, and their movements were restrained and polite.

Eventually, Zuko spoke again. "What about you? Your turn-about…you must admit you are the secret-good type."

The woman smirked. Mai had turned against her nation, yes, but she had not done it for any ideology. Though blessed with a knack for wielding knives, daggers, and throwing stars, the Fire Lord's girlfriend was still an adolescent. That strange period between childhood and adulthood can addle any well-set brain, make the approval of a significant other more important than the sun and everything else under it.

Mai moved forward and caressed her lover's hollow cheek. "I am still stealing bits of your flame, darling."

**~close~**

_...will probably have to be amputated._

_By the way, interspection = introspection plus intersection._


	3. Concentration

****_Daily koan: rules were made to be broken..._

**~~Concentration~~**

The girl stared down the serpents. They did not move. Azula loathed them silently.

_I hope my last letter got to you alright. I have not yet received a reply._

Her right hand steadied the parchment while her left hand wrote. The pink-white scars around the wrist shimmered silver in the morning sun. They seemed almost to undulate, to wrap and re-wrap themselves about her forearm, but then she blinked, and it was only a trick of the light.

_Surely you are considering the wisdom of contacting me. You have nothing to fear._

She bit her lip. It was the truth. She hated it.

_I am helpless. I am a whale-shark left to dry on the sand. _

Blood trickled down her chin. Azula ignored it – if anything, she bit down harder.

_I have been chained for a long time. I doubt I can stand without help, much less fight. There are other difficulties, too._

Crimson splattered the parchment. Her eyes widened in panic. That would not do, to send her dear brother a letter painted with proof of something gone wrong. Reflexively, her left hand dropped the brush and came up beneath the paper, fingers extended.

But no energy left Azula's body. The paper remained whole and cold. Her fingertips trembled with effort. The girl's face broke momentarily into an expression of pure terror before twisting into a wild snarl, her shoulders twitching in frustration beneath the broad black robe.

With resolve, she caught herself. Breathed. Released her tormented features into an expression of placid acceptance. Through pure effort, the deposed princess managed to quell the shaking of her wasted muscles.

The ruined paper remained. Azula's aquiline eyes darted around the tiny room fruitlessly before narrowing with the pleasure of a finely wrought idea. She smoothed it the best she could, added a few more lines of text, and signed it with a flourish. The last line she added, however, was at the top of the paper, a revision to the address.

_My love, _it now read. _Love _looked strange in the patient's hand.

The girl stood with visible effort, the muscles in her legs shaking. Azula reached up to the barred window she could not quite reach, and snapped twice. In a moment, a rusty-colored hawk head peered through the bars and snatched the rolled paper from her fingers.

The messenger hawk flew off with the scroll clutched in its claws, soaring like an airbender on the drafts. Azula watched for a long, jealous moment before collapsing onto her bedding. Evidently the effort to reach the window had exhausted her wasted legs - the boundless reservoir of power in her body had dried to a mere trickle. She knew this, and hid her face behind her hands, though there was no one there to see it.

In solitude, Azula's unkempt fingernails dug burrows into her brow. Her hands shook with effort.

**~close~**

****_...but rulers were not._


	4. Miscommunication

****_Single-dipped koan: if you can't handle me at my worst..._

**~~Miscommunication~~**

"You have nothing to fear, Fire Lord Zuko."

"I am not afraid!" Zuko protested, his lips curling in a snarl. Flames flickered around his fingertips. He could take this nothing-man, this insolent guard from relative prestige to a pile of ashes in a second, if he wanted to. But then he remembered his new friends' desolate faces and a blind girl with charred red feet, and the Fire Lord released his breath. He conceded to the poor guard, "Apologies. I got away from myself."

"Not a problem, my lord," the guard said with relief, bowing deeply. To his apparent surprise, Zuko bowed back, albeit only slightly.

"No, it _is. _You do not deserve to be intimidated for speaking the truth," Zuko said. For some reason, he heard the last line in Iroh's lilting voice even as he spoke it. "Keep that in mind, and tell me the truth when I ask my next question."

"Yes, my lord."

"How is my sister?"

Silence reigned for a slow moment. Evening danced in sunlit dust clouds around three pairs of feet – the guard's in heavy metal alloy boots; Zuko's in flat shoes made of fine black silk and adorned with golden embroidered dragons; and the final pair, belonging to Mai, in low geta sandals.

"She is…you will see." It was not encouraging.

Zuko glanced aside, doubt covering his features. "Maybe I should speak to her healers first."

"Maybe," Mai butted in, voice dry with resentment, "you should _listen_."

"I can explain," the guard sighed. "She had horrible screaming fits for months. It sounded like a fight between a dragon and a mountain. We had her in a bare stone room because she incinerated anything flammable we put in there with her. We had to chain her to the wall to stop her from burning herself, but she can breathe fire from her mouth!" He shuddered. "I've never seen anything like it. I still have nightmares."

"Sounds safe," remarked Mai.

"She's not chained anymore, is she?" Zuko inquired, biting back his empathy. _It was for her own good, _he reminded himself. "She wrote me a letter."

"No, see, here's the miracle!" the guard exclaimed. "It was too inhumane, the way we had to restrain her. I've heard rumors about her - war crimes, murder, general dastardliness – but you can't abuse a tiger-shark just for being a tiger-shark. Ya know?"

"We know," Mai drawled.

"So we were thinking euthanasia – "

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Zuko burst in crossly, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "As her legal guardian -"

The guard looked surprised. "My higher-ups and I sent you a long report, detailing the options and conditions."

"I never received it," the Fire Lord muttered. Mai covered the bottom half of her face with a cream-colored fan. Zuko shot her a sidelong glance, but conceded, "I guess that's a matter for another time."

The guard shot an alarmed glance at the lady, but continued, "In any case, we arrived at an alternate solution. One of our healers was in contact with a brilliant man from the Northern Water Tribe who is able to imbibe medicinal herbs with greater healing power using traditional waterbending techniques. He visited the prisoner and devised a special formula that he believes can help her. This was all in the report."

Mai coughed politely.

"Maybe we can get this waterbender sage guy to brew up something to soothe your throat," quipped Zuko venomously.

"Well…" The guard was clearly distressed at losing his footing in the conversation. "It seems to be working. We have been able to unchain her. You will see," he repeated.

_See what, exactly? _Zuko wondered with dread.

**~close~**

****_...then you shouldn't wake me up before eight._


	5. Revoir

_This one's a honker._

_ Your koaniness: shoot for the moon..._

**~~Revoir~~**

She was not the ultimate warrior princess anymore, that much was clear. She had once shown off her well-trained muscles like a male peacock strutting in the grass. She had once been royal and deceptively broad-shouldered in all her imperial Fire Nation splendor. There had been fits of fury over one hair out of place or one fingernail filed slightly shorter than the rest.

Now, her hair hung lank against her pale cheeks, her body hidden deep within her vast, plain robe. She was a wee spider, her limbs appearing disproportionately long in their thinness. Her eyes glittered dully in a wan, expressionless face.

When Zuko and Mai entered, it took a long moment for recognition to sink it. Finally, Azula stood to greet them. Then two surprising things happened: first, she bowed. Zuko's eyes widened. Second, the bow proved too much for her atrophied body, and she stumbled. In reflex, Zuko moved forward to catch his faded sister by the forearm.

His fingers grazed the snakes.

"What-?" He said by way of greeting.

Azula opened her mouth to speak. Nothing happened. She coughed, spat, and tried again.

"Hello, brother. Received my letter?" It began as a croak, but over the course of the two phrases morphed into the smooth-tongued politician's voice he knew so well.

He caught her arm again, traced one of the scars with his finger. "Chains?"

"We almost match," she affirmed, gesturing to the infamous scar adorning the left half of his face.

At close quarters, their eyes met. It seemed to Zuko that there was something wrong about his sister's face, something beyond the sharpness lent to it by mental institute rations as well as by growing into true adolescence. He dreamt of her eagle's eyes, always watching him, predicting his actions and turning them against him – and these were not the eyes of his nightmares. They were clouded, jittery, helpless.

"What's wrong with you?" Zuko blurted out.

"Oh, _wouldn't_ you like to know?" Azula said, face blank but with a condescending smirk in her voice.

"Sorry to ruin the moment," Mai cut in dryly. She seethed beneath her mask. "But we're not here to pity you."

Azula's gaze jerked slowly away from Zuko to land on his girlfriend. Evidently Mai's presence had been worth no consideration until that moment. The former princess's hands clenched into her cotton sleeves, though her face remained composed. She said snidely, "Why _are _you here?"

"I've no idea," Mai replied quickly.

"Neither do I," said Azula.

"So we'll be leaving."

"Off with you, then." Azula waved her hand as though batting away a spider-fly.

Tension crackled in the air. Mai backed slowly away, towards the door, refusing to break gaze and allow her opponent an opening. As she passed him, Mai laid her hand delicately upon her boyfriend's arm. "Come on, Zuko."

"Ah, no." Azula spoke as though her whim still held force, though her position and physical abilities had been stripped of meaning. "I will talk to my brother alone."

Mai's face filled with tender worry, and she refused to relinquish her hold on Zuko. She bit her lip, began to speak, thought better of it, tried again. "Is that wise?"

"I am _harmless,_" The deposed princess spat, locking eyes with her one-time compatriot. "You can plainly see my body is wasted. I can barely stand." Every word was filled with loathing – either it was for Mai, who had deserted her friend for a boy; or it was for the very condition Azula described. Perhaps it was both.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "You still have your bending."

Azula smiled regretfully and slowly shook her head.

"The Avatar didn't get to you," Zuko countered. "I was there. He didn't want to use that power unless it was absolutely necessary."

_ I can't take away that part of a person, that most fundamental piece of being, _Aang had said. _Fire Lord Ozai was a one-time thing, to save the rest of the world._

Azula turned and bent to the table. Although there was little else in the room, Zuko and Mai had somehow overlooked the little wooden structure and the green pot that sat upon it. When Azula brought it closer, they saw that it was made of dark jade and filled with some thick, swampy gruel of green and purple plants. At close range, it smelled _foul._

"Erg-what?" Zuko exclaimed eloquently, slapping his hand to his face to block the smell. Mai's only reaction was to wrinkle her nose ever so slightly.

"Water Tribe magic plus modern medicine," Azula explained. "Heat it up for me?"

"Are you sure? That won't alter it?"

"They bring it to me hot." Azula shrugged. "I let it sit so you two could experience the thrill."

"I'm having a ball," Mai commented as the fumes continued to waft. Zuko took the bowl from his sister, wincing as his fingers brushed hers. They felt cold and lifeless. He rubbed heat into the stew and the pair watched as Azula downed it in one go.

"Refreshing," she said, raising one eyebrow as though she were making a challenge. "It takes away my crazy. Unfortunately – or perhaps the opposite – it also takes my fire."

To demonstrate, she began one of the most basic firebending kata, a warm-up exercise, really. As she thrust her arm forward and upward, the Fire Lord and his girlfriend flinched backwards involuntarily, to avoid the wave of heat they reflexively knew was about to crash down upon them. Nothing happened.

Azula stood with one open palm raised to the corner of the room, her fierce warrior's stance at odds with her figure, which suddenly appeared tiny and girlish in its overlarge robe. Despite the ferocity in her eyes, the scene reeked of powerlessness. Vulnerability.

Mai coughed again, in what was perhaps an attempt to break Zuko's reverie. The sound alerted Azula to her frozen, ridiculous position, and she broke the form to stand, her thighs shaking with effort. Exchanging a glance, Zuko and Mai knelt, which allowed the tired ex-firebender to do the same.

From then on, the visit was mundane. Mai said more in dark glances than she did in words, while the conversation between the royal siblings was filled with nearly tangible deletions and little censorships – though he brought his sister up-to-date on world affairs, Zuko was careful not to let her know too much about the inner workings of the new Fire Nation government. Her comments were sparse, as though she were careful not to say too much that could engender doubt about her recovery.

As they departed, Mai held tight to her boyfriend's arm.

**~close~**

_...even if you miss, you'll shoot off into the vacuum of space forever._


	6. Confusion

****_You only live once..._

**~~Confusion~~**

"So."

"So?"

Hung with mahogany-colored tapestries, the royal master bedroom seemed to close in on itself despite its generous size. Golden dragons knotted themselves into uncomfortable-looking positions on the walls, their faces struck with the permanent scowl of one who must observe similar behavior in others. Today, however, the snarling dragons had a respite.

The heat was stifling, even as Mai's fan lackadaisically conjured a breeze in the still air. Her eyes were glowing slits, daring him to challenge her.

He did not back down. "Why did you hide the letters from me? My own sister could have been killed, and I knowing nothing!"

"You should not have to concern yourself with such matters." Once again, Zuko wished he could lunge forward and shout some passion into his girlfriend's callous drawl, shake some life into her aloof and pallid face.

"Not have to -!" Zuko spluttered, but Mai cut him off.

"Look," she said quietly, with an unusual tenderness in her voice. "I didn't intend to hide the situation from you. Once I read the first letter, I didn't want you to show you until a decision had been reached. "

"But I -"

"- would have inevitably worked yourself into a fit."

"With good reason!"

"You would have assumed they were planning to eliminate her, freaked out, and had her healers arrested and thrown in prison, thus eliminating any possibility of finding this waterbending cure."

"Hm," Zuko considered, eyes narrow and glinting gold in the limited light. Suspicion billowed around him like a loosely tied cloak in the wind, but Mai held steady, drawing herself up to meet him at eye level. "I suppose that sounds reasonable. But what if the waterbender had not worked out?"

"I would have given you the letters and told you everything."

"Then why in Agni's name…" Zuko's rage was mounting again as he considered the perspective-shifting bedlam that had consumed his worldview since that morning. It had dawned neither too early nor too late, the buttery golden light casting itself narcissistically over the tangle of legs that sprawled across the royal bedroom. Now, his sister looked sane and his girlfriend seemed treacherous. "…didn't you _tell me _after they wrote us about her progress?"

Mai's self-righteous resolve faded. "Simple. I didn't want you to see her."

"What?" He had expected another convoluted play of logic.

"I don't buy this metamorphosis," she said softly, though her eyes were hard as flints. "A snake-fish without its venom is still a snake-fish."

"But harmless."

"Azula is no snake-fish – she still has her head and her tongue. And _you, _dear Zuko, _you _are her ticket out of that cage." She stood opposite him, her careless, slouching stance and drooping eyelids at odds with the tight concern that filled her voice. "Guard yourself."

"Mai…" Zuko called. He longed to reach out to her but knew it would not be received with mercy. He searched long for the right words but had to settle for marginally satisfactory ones. "Don't worry."

"Believe me, I won't."

"I mean, I won't let her get into my head - if she even can, now. It will take a lot more than a locked firebending chi and two dramatic letters to convince me that my sister has been entirely reborn." The words tasted sour in his mouth.

Aang's and Katara's mistrustful faces flashed through his mind. He felt Toph's terror, Sokka's loathing, at his accidental display of the dangers of firebending. It had taken so much to convince them that he wanted to help them, even though the true path had been clear as day inside him. He'd had to open himself from the inside out, display all of the shadows and gnarls anyone would want to keep private, in order to show the Avatar and his friends that his intentions were untainted.

Azula would never do that. Zuko couldn't see her opening her heart for the world to judge…then again, he couldn't exactly see her _having _a heart, either.

"She has a lot more up her sleeve," Mai murmured, moving closer. Zuko's breath caught as her hand disappeared inside her robe, half-expecting it to reappear with a dagger. Instead she presented him with a piece of paper with an address written on it in Mai's well-trained but hasty hand. "As do we."

"What - ?"

"You need guidance, my love." She was very close to him now, and he could feel the cold calmness of her mind beginning to permeate his skin. Zuko broke eye contact, trying to beat back the tide of conflict and confusion beginning to well up in his head. Mai was as convinced of Azula's treachery as Zuko was unsure – and he loved Mai, but love did not always lead him to the right decisions.

Once he read the paper, however, his path seemed as clear as it had been when he had become a traitor to the Fire Nation in order to save it. He glanced at his smiling lover, and asked, "How far away is Ba Sing Se on horseback?"

****_...unless you're a Hindu._


	7. Inspiration

****_Genius is one percent inspiration..._

**~Inspiration~**

Incarceration can bring out the best in a person. _The Prince, Le Morte d'Arthur_, _Don Quixote _ - these most famous works were penned in prison. Still others have made their mark on the world from inside jail cells, from Malcolm X to Aung San Suu Kyi.

Since Zuko's visit, Azula had slept, moped, and slept some more. There was nothing that could possibly humiliate her more than she had already humiliated herself. She dwelled on that wobbly-legged, ineffectual firebending stance she had somehow allowed herself to perform in front of her brother. She was weak and he loved it.

Usually, a successfully executed scheme filled her with the buzzing, floral taste of success. But this plan, though cut as clear as diamond in her mind, planted a seed of growling pain in her gut as she implemented it.

_I am nothing, _the ex-princess reminded herself furiously, cheek pressed to the cold stone floor she lied upon. _I have no claim but pity._

Unless…

Azula's ragged bangs fell over her eyes, casting a fuzzy black filter over the empty room.

_Looking through a haze can make the world clearer._

She brushed her hair aside, sitting upright so suddenly it made her head swim. She had originally written that line as a throw-away, a teaser, a piece of bait for her stupid brother. It had been a hint at her drugged condition and subsequent progress. Now, however, a flash of insight came to her. She felt her limbs buzz with inspiration.

Standing was difficult, but Azula managed it with the help of the wall. It had been an ordeal to remain on her feet and relatively poised for the visitors. She would not allow that to happen again. Drawing in a deep breath, the deposed princess let her spindly fingers drift away from the comforting expanse of stone.

For one terrifying moment, her ankles buckled. Azula's mind helpfully presented her with images of stones rushing to meet her, vertigo, broken and bloodied noses – but she clenched her muscles and managed to balance. Without the adrenaline confronting Zuko had brought, moving about would be very challenging.

The awareness required to shift her weight forward shocked her. Her atrophied muscles refused to automatically lift and shift in the practiced rhythm she had taken for granted. But the unanticipated difficulty did not deter her – if anything, it fueled her. She hated this wasted body prison had forced her to take, this condition of infantile helplessness – and hate was the most powerful motivator she knew.

All night, Azula paced.

When the day dawned, she sat upright in the westernmost corner of the room, legs crossed. She reviled in the sunlight as it struck her. Though her firebending was blocked, she felt that the day's fiery light called upon some tiny vestigial vein of power left deep within her. She shivered with relief and fatigue, her spent limbs giving off quiet tremors.

At 7:00 exactly, a guard opened the door and placed a tray of steaming bowls on the little table. She gave him an obligatory glare through matted bangs, eyes like burning coals, but his knife was drawn as per regulation and he was not scared. The institution required anyone within ten feet of her cell to be openly armed. She pretended to hate the inhumanity of it, but secretly took it as a compliment.

Breakfast was rice porridge and a steaming, stinking potful of medicine. If she did not consume all of it, they would tie her up and force it down her throat. Azula downed it in one go, allowing herself only one tiny grimace, and laid down to long-awaited rest.

She slept with a tiny smirk on her face, dreaming of wildfires.

****_...and ninety-nine percent appropriation._


End file.
